In the late fall of 1969, NYC sportwriters Paul Zimmerman and Dick Schaap hurried out a book titled "The Year the Mets Lost Last Place." It recounted the wonderful '69 season of the NY Mets. It was a "miracle" season, indeed. I read that book, buying it early the next spring during my school's Book Order Week.
On October 14th, 1969, I had turned 12 years old. Also on that day, 3000 miles to the east in Shea Stadium, my New York Mets beat the Baltimore Orioles to grab a 2-1 lead in the World Series. Gary Genty (6.2 innings) and 22-yr old Nolan Ryan (2.1 innings) combined in a 4-hit shutout as the Mets won 5-0. Ed Kranepool and Tommy Agee both went yard for the Metropolitans. I watched much of that game in the teacher's room at school. It pays to have a mom who is a teacher!
The next day Tom Terrific Seaver would throw a complete game 10-inning masterpiece as the Mets won 2-1. And then on the the 16th, Jerry Koosman would add his own CG as homers by Donn Clendenon and little Al Weis propelled the Mets to a miracle crown.
That past summer, after a July rally (including winning 5 of 6 from the Cubs), the Mets had fallen behind by 9.5 games in mid-August. Then they got hot. Smoking hot. Tom Terrific Seaver et al. starred down the Mets' losing past, a destiny they seemed doomed to as '69 began, and grabbed their opportunity by the throat.
That Mets team had added a veteran 1B bat mid-season (Donn Clendenon), had Ace 1A and Ace 1B (Seaver and Koosman). a young-gun rotation arm just getting going (Gentry) and a grizzled veteran finding his arm again (Caldwell). They had two legit-star bats (Jones and Agee) and a catcher known as a terrific receiver with a decent bat (Grote). They also had a lefty OF bat who specialized in tormenting RHP (Shamsky...who shares my Oct. 14th birthday, btw). On top of that, they had a bullpen that was superb (Ron Taylor = 76 innings/ERA+ of 134, Tug McGraw 100inn/163ERA+, Jack DiLauro 64/152, Nolan Ryan with 25 appearances, 10 starts, 2 CG's and a 6-3 record)
Lemme' see? Morales = Clendenon. Felix and Kuma = Seaver and Koosman. Paxton = Gentry. Young = Cardwell. Cano and Seager = Agee and Jones. Zunino = Grote. Chavez (my goodness I do not like him...but he's working) = Shamsky. Our bullpen = theirs. Etc.....
And here we are: It's again mid-August (now some years later) and my team, the M's, is starting to look like they have a Miracle Mets amazin' hot streak in them. My, oh my! I listened to the M's 9th inning miracle against the BoSox the other night. I was driving south from Spokane. I was in a particularly blue mood and the amazin' finish was a bright spot that I badly needed.
2014 is a bit more complicated than 1969: the Wild Card will do that to you. But just maybe there is another Miracle "M" team getting hot at exactly the right time. Ya gotta believe!*
In the summer of 1969 man went to the moon. I watched that, too. To begin that journey, a streaking rocket ship took Armstrong-Aldrin-Collins blazing through the earth's atmosphere. The ancients used to believe that comets and such streaking lights through the sky signaled the coming of a new king or the death of an old one. For example, in the summer of 1066, Halley's Comet made its once in 76 years appearance and streaked across European skies, 4 times as big as Venus and 1/4 as bright as the moon. English astronomers took its appearance as an omen for the upcoming Battle of Hastings. It was even later included in the Bayeaux Tapestry, which tells the story of the victory of William the Counqueror and death of King Harold II (BTW, William was a jerk and Harold well respected for his leadership abilites and chosen king by the English nobles).
On the night of July 20th of 1969 an 11-year old me walked out into my yard and starred at the moon, amazed that men were there upon it. Four days earlier their Saturn V rocket had lit up the sky, just perhaps an omen for the coming ascendency of the Miracle Mets.
I think I will step out into my yard tonight and look for any streaking light. Man, even a firefly will do. Then I will choose to interpret that as a pleasant and benevolent omen announcing the ascendancy of the Miracle M's of '14.
This is our year to stare down destiny and make it blink.
This is our year to lose last place!
Ya gotta' believe!!*
**OK, I know I'm mixing Mets' mottos, as "Ya gotta believe" was from their World Series run in '73 (with my Willie Mays), But grant me some license here. It works.
Hope you're on your feet Doc! If so, check out the sky tonight. Let's look for that light together.
Moe
Schaap's book brings back fond memories. I was a big Oriole fan because I loved their pitching staff. Cinderella really does exist!!!!
Well said again! I am out of country so appreciate the articles. And no matter the outcome, even if there is no first place this year, it is now finally within sight!!!!
That year I had a summer job in a men's clothing store in a northwest suburb of Chicago. As a White Sox fan, I was behind enemy lines. One of the salesman there was a short, wiry and exquisitely dressed old guy named Alex. I don't know if he was married, if he ever ate, or even bothered to think or talk about anything but his beloved Chicago Cubs. And he was not alone. The Cubs looked unbeatable and the north side was delirious. .
Ernie Banks, Billy Williams, Ron Santo, a strong middle infield, an all-star catcher and a corner outfield guy named Jim Hickman who also hit 20 home runs. The rotation had the wonderful Fergie Jenkins, a solid Kenny Holtzman and Bill Hands, a guy who came out of nowhere to actually pitch better than anyone else. The bullpen wasn't overly impressive, but it didn't seem to matter. But even with a big lead, Alex took every game as a life-and-death experience.
Things were getting a little uncomfortable about the time I was ready to go back to school. They lost several in a row at the end of August and Alex physically slumped. But as I left, they went on a little winning streak, and he looked a little better.
Then the roof fell in. The Cubs lost eight straight...the pitching staff gave up about 50 runs...and they fell out of first. I remember Cubs fans complaining that not one Met was good enough to make the Cubs lineup (of course, they conveniently avoided comparisons of the pitching staff). I could only imagine Alex's agony.
At Christmas, long after the raw wound of the epic nosedive had begun to heal at least a little, I stopped back at the store to say hi. I didn't see Alex, so I asked the store manager if he was off for the holidays.
He looked at me a little funny and said, 'Oh, you didn't hear. Alex died."
He didn't make it to the end of the season. His friends believed that baseball killed him.
I have no way of knowing if that was the cause, but maybe 'life-and-death' isn't so much of an exaggeration. I do know that at times like these the daily jolt of adrenalin and post-game euphoria can certainly make you feel like you're living life on a higher plane.
So, go M's--you wouldn't want to hurt anybody.
What a story d!
I was always a huge Billy Williams fan and remain so. Is it possible for a HoF'er to be underappreciated? If so, he is.
'69 was actually the worst season he had between '63 and '72. He was good.
So we are all waiting with baited breath... what streaking light did you see??? :)
It was there OBF! I saw it!
It might have been a jet, still well at altitude, heading for Portland. It could have been a satellite. Heck, it might have been a flash of the street light reflecting off of a bat swooping for bugs.
But the ancients weren't that picky, superstitious as they were: it would clearly have been an omen for them. And that's good enough for me. So whatever it was I'm saying it portends well for our M's.
A book about last year's M's might have been titled "Can't Anybody Here Play This Game?"
Well, actually I stole that from Jimmy Breslin's title for his book about the '62 Mets.
Man, what goes around comes around.
Destiny is blinking again. Now let's grab it.
Ya' gotta' believe* in amazin'* things!
And in comets/jets/satellites/bats!
Moe
Many people talk justifiably about the danger of a third baseman playing in for bunt...only to have the hitter swing away.
I once had the chance to ask a first base coach from that generation about a similar threat--a first baseman, holding a runner on, with a powerful left hander swinging as hard as he could, only 90 feet away.
"Who was the one people feared most--McCovey, Stargell, Bill White, Powell, Yastrzemski, Jackson?"
"Oh, that's easy," he said. "Billy Williams--by a good margin. There were guys who hit it farther--but NOBODY hit it harder."
Praise the Lord I saw the light!
Good old Hank Williams or if you perfer (as I do) the cover by David Crowder
Oh and all is good and well with a Bat... as long as it's not carrying Ebola... ;)